


The Kings and the BFF

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [36]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Arguments, M/M, Oral Sex, Searching for a Best Friend Forever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:47:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4992634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And here’s another story just in time for the EE of Battle of the Five Armies in American theatres.  If you’ve got a ticket, hope the extra bits are good!</p><p>Thorin has lots of devoted friends – but Thranduil has none and is rather jealous.  Why does everyone want to be Thorin’s best friend but everyone holds the elven king at arm’s length?  Thranduil sets out to find himself a friend.  Will this end in disaster?  Well, these things usually do, don’t they, LOL?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kings and the BFF

.o00o.

The Kings and the BFF

 

Pt I

 

_There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven't yet met._

Thorin was writing a letter and Thranduil was watching with a scowl on his face from the other side of the room.  He sipped his glass of wine and knew – just knew – that it was to Galadriel.  It had been a month since her visit to Erebor and Thorin had exchanged letters with her ever since.  It was the silly smile on the dwarf’s face that gave the game away.  He would scratch a few lines with his quill pen and then sit back in his chair and gaze dreamily into space, his lips curving in that smile, before he bent forward once more and wrote a few more sentences.

 

And now he had stopped for a moment and was gently caressing the feathered tip of his pen with his large, sensitive fingers.  What _was_ he thinking?  Thranduil was feeling rather irritated.  And now he was stroking the feather against his lips.  Must be a really good fantasy he’s having, thought the elf. 

 

“Writing to a friend?” he asked.

 

“Yes, to Galadriel,” Thorin replied abstractedly.

 

“What about?” asked Thranduil curtly, experiencing only a small amount of satisfaction that his guess had been correct.

 

“Oh, you know, this and that – the sort of fun things that you say to friends.”  And he went back to his dreamy musings whilst the feather continued to run backwards and forwards across his lips.

 

Well, actually, Thranduil didn’t know because he didn’t have any friends.  He decided that he had had enough and, plonking his wine glass down on a table, he marched across the room and took the quill from Thorin’s hand.  The sun had only been up for an hour and they still had on their dressing gowns.  Thranduil had felt like a fuck when they had woken up but Thorin had got out of bed to write his letter before the elf could detain him.  Now he was determined to have his way.

 

Thorin stood up and made a grab for his pen but the elven king held it at arm’s length.  “I can think of better uses for a quill,” he said silkily.

 

The dwarf laughed.  “And what might those be?” he asked curiously.  Then seeing the glint in his lover’s eyes, he added: “Perhaps I’d rather not know.”

 

Thranduil grinned and gave the tie of Thorin’s robe a tug so that it fell open.  The dwarf grinned back.  Then the elf ran the feather down Thorin’s nose, lips and chin until it reached his broad chest.  Delicately, the elf then traced his tattoos and circled the nipples.  Thorin quivered.  The feathered quill descended further and gently probed his navel. 

 

“Ah,” commented the elven king, “something stirs.”  And, indeed, Thorin’s cock was beginning to respond to the exquisitely pleasurable tickling.  Thorin breathed more heavily as the feather circled his hardening member and finally found its way beneath his balls.

 

“This is what a feather is for,” murmured the elf as he continued to caress Thorin’s genitals with it and he finally slid down the dwarf’s body and took his cock in his mouth.  The dwarven king was always amazed at how Thranduil could relax his throat so completely that his own natural urge to thrust hard was not a problem because his partner could swallow him right down to the root.  The elf never gagged either when he came – as Thorin was often inclined to do when their positions were reversed.  The dwarven king had to admit that he was lucky to have such a talented partner.   

“The bed would be more comfortable,” he gasped.

 

.o00o.

 

Two hours later, Thranduil awoke from a heavy post-coital doze.  He was in the ultimate ‘reversed’ position with Thorin’s exhausted cock in his mouth and his own limp member nudging the dwarf’s bearded lips. He began to suck on Thorin rather absentmindedly whilst the dwarven king, although still fast asleep, started to nibble him automatically in his dreams.  It was very nice - comfortable and comforting.  Thorin’s prick twitched slightly – was there still something left to give? – and his own hardened very slightly.

 

What a pairing they were!  Their relationship had everything….. except…..Thorin had friends and he had none.  Why didn’t he have friends, he wondered?  Bilbo reckoned it was because he was so cold and distant in his manner and perhaps he was right.  He sucked slightly harder at Thorin’s cock and ran through in his mind his handful of attempts at friendship.

 

There had been Lady Glamel.  He had liked her a lot at first: easy to talk to and so witty that she made him laugh.  Weren’t friends supposed to make you laugh?  But then he had discovered that she was an inveterate gossip and her warm, chatty manner was designed merely to worm information out of him which she could then pass on to the rest of his court.  He drew a line between them then and beyond this he sensibly refused to go.

 

Then there had been Ethril, the elegant, goodnatured courtier who had always been at his elbow to support him through difficult times.  He had honestly thought that Ethril was his very best friend – giving without thought of any reward – because that’s what friends did, didn’t they?  But then he found out that the only reason for his kindness was because he wanted to get into his king’s breeches.  And when the elf lord’s jealousy of his relationship with Thorin led him to make a vile attempt to break up the two kings, then he really had to go.

 

The dwarven king’s prick was twitching in an interesting manner but Thranduil hardly noticed as he continued to suck idly and thought harder about his friends - or rather his lack of them.  Other relationships had been purely sexual such as that with Maelon and Haldir – although he had been groomed by these two sophisticates into believing that what was between them was a form of friendship.  And he gloomily concluded that, over thousands of years, he had not had a single true friend: no, not one.

 

Thorin, on the other hand, had no trouble at all in collecting friends, it seemed.  His whole Company of dwarves who had accompanied him on the perilous quest to defeat Smaug doubtless thought they were his friends and those who had known him the longest, such as Dwalin and Balin, were the closest.  They had fought by his side, they had followed him unquestioningly into the jaws of death and they loved him – Dwalin a bit too much, perhaps.  They would do anything for him and he would do anything for them.

 

Was Bilbo also Thorin’s friend, he wondered?  Their relationship had that sexual beat to it, admittedly, but Bilbo had saved Thorin’s life and seemed to think he was a friend.  He wasn’t quite sure into which category Bilbo fell.

 

And then there was his female friend, the beautiful Brangwyn, who had eventually married the heir of Durin, Young Thorin, and had then produced little Durin.  Thorin and Brangwyn were so very, very close.  She understood him completely and had helped him out of so many fixes, especially those fixes that involved Thranduil.

 

He wondered if Brangwyn was his friend by association – a friend of a friend – and she had certainly given him support and advice on some occasions; but her relationship with him was nothing like the one she had with Thorin.

 

He sighed and ran his tongue around the rim of the dwarf’s cock once more.  He really ought to try harder to find a friend all of his own.   The trouble was: whom should he choose to cosy up with?  Thorin awoke then and dug his fingers into the elf’s buttocks.  “Have we got time?” he murmured, rubbing his face into the elf’s crotch contentedly.  “Should we go down for a late breakfast?”

 

“Sadly,” laughed Thranduil, “I think that breakfast calls.  If we go down too late, we always get those smirking looks and I really don’t want your entire court to know our business.”  And with a final tug of Thorin’s cock with his white teeth, he got out of bed.  He must give everyone the once over when he got downstairs, he thought.  There must be _someone_ who would make a good friend, if he only put his mind to it.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt II

 

_Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light._

Young Thorin was also lying in bed with his one, true love, the beautiful Brangwyn, and thinking that they really ought to get up.  But little Durin was beginning to sleep later in the morning and it was tempting to lie there until he started yelling.  And, he stroked his wife’s silken-smooth skin and squeezed her full breast.

 

It had been his best move ever to marry Brangwyn, to get his foot in the door before his father had got there first.  He didn’t know what he would do without her: she was his wife, his lover and his friend.  That last was really important because he had no friends and he really needed someone whom he could talk to and share his problems with.  The trouble was, he couldn’t share everything with her because some things would upset her and he wanted to protect her from the worst of his concerns.  He really wished he had other friends so that he could share the load with them but he had never had a single friend in his entire life and he didn’t know how to make them.

He had been a lonely child after his mother’s death.   His father had shown no interest in him and his peers had kept their distance from the son of Dain.  He had been desperately miserable until he had come to Erebor as Thorin’s heir.  Thorin had been very kind to him but he was not what he would call a friend – more a substitute father.  Meeting Brangwyn, with all her warmth and kindness, was a revelation.  And the sex was pretty good too!

 

His wife stirred and, turning in his arms, kissed his throat.  “Better get up,” she said.  And, right on cue, a grizzling started up from the other bedroom.  They dragged themselves from their bed with a sigh.

 

They could use a nurse to look after Durin but had decided that they had to take on responsibility for their child themselves.  And Thranduil, the child’s ‘other mother’, would give them a hard time even if they even suggested it.  He ought to try being a full-time mother instead of a part-time child-minder, thought Young Thorin grumpily, and then see if total responsibility was a good idea.

 

The heir, his wife and the two kings descended to the dining hall together with Durin trotting in their wake.  They nodded companionably at each other and then, as they ate, Thranduil sat back and surveyed the room.  Now, was there anyone here – anyone at all – whom he would like to have as a friend?

 

Someone from Thorin’s old Company was his best bet and he studied each of them where they sat dotted around the room.  Balin was too old and preachy; Dwalin was too closely involved with Thorin; Nori was too untrustworthy; Ori was too childish; Dori had his hands full looking after Ori; Bifur was too damaged and incoherent; Bofur never took anything seriously; Bombur was too fat and never talked – just ate; Oin was too deaf; Gloin was busy with his own family. And they were such an ugly bunch!  His sense of aesthetic beauty required someone at least passably pleasant to look at.  Why was the only good-looking dwarf Thorin?  And he sat back feeling hard done by.

 

But, then it came to him!  Thorin wasn’t the only good-looking dwarf: his heir was very handsome too and reminded him of Thorin’s nephew, Fili.  What about him?  And he glanced curiously across the table to where Young Thorin sat.  The prince saw him look and gave him an amiable smile in return.  Yes!  He was the most likely one: handsome, tallish, strong, intelligent, a good warrior and someone training to be a king.  What was not to like?

 

Fortuitously, Brangwyn had just trotted down the table with Durin to speak with Bifur who had been making the child a toy, whilst Thorin had moved up the table to have a chat with Balin.  The two were alone, facing each other.  Now was the time for Thranduil to hone his social skills.

 

Now, what was an ice-breaker?  These things didn’t come naturally to him.  Friends were supposed to show interest and concern, weren’t they?

 

“Is Durin sleeping better these days?”

 

Good opener.  Young Thorin smiled, pleased at his interest.  “Yes, thank you.  We tend to get a good night’s sleep now that he's older.”

 

“It must be hard at times – and you two do such a good job.”

 

“Thanks for the sympathy,” grinned the prince.  “We couldn’t do it without your help – you’re like a second mother to him, Thranduil.”

 

The elven king didn’t object to the label at all: in fact he positively glowed.  And Young Thorin was pleased that he had given him so much pleasure – and so easily.  This friendship business was quite a piece of cake.

 

“Well, my pleasure, actually,” said the king.  “You know how much he means to me.”  Yes, he thought.  Let’s do some bonding over little Durin.  “I have all the fun but then I can give him back at the end of the day.  He must have such a big impact on your life.”  He paused – then went in for the kill.  “On both your lives – together.”

 

The prince was quite touched.  Thranduil was so easy to talk to today and he really seemed to understand the problems of having a child.  “Yes,” he said with a wry grin.  “We don’t exactly have much time for each other any more.”

 

Thranduil’s brow furrowed with concern.  “Then you must _make_ time for each other.  I insist on looking after Durin all day tomorrow so that you and Brangwyn can share some romantic moments with each other.  I’ll get the key to the walled garden from Thorin and you can have a picnic there.  It’s the most romantic and secluded place I know.”   And he gave the prince a knowing grin.

 

Young Thorin felt all warm and fuzzy.  Thranduil was being so thoughtful.  He hadn’t realised what a nice bloke he was.  Since they had first met, he had always thought of him as ‘that elf’ – and someone strangely ‘other’; but suddenly he saw him as a good person to have around, someone who loved his son and someone he could relate to.

 

He had a thought.  “Brangwyn’s taking Durin over to her old village today,” he offered.  “She’s showing him off and visiting her father who isn’t very well.  And she’s leaving me to idle around.  How would you like to come hunting with me?”

 

Yes, actually, Thranduil would like.  Thorin was in a meeting – yet again – with Balin and the council and this would give him something entertaining to do: something where he could explore his budding friendship with the prince a bit further.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt III

 

_One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood._

It was a lovely, sunny day and both elf and dwarf mounted their horses with enthusiasm.  Thorin and Brangwyn had raised an eyebrow when they had heard what their partners were getting up to that afternoon.

 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” grinned Thorin.  And he gave an amused snort as he thought of any kind of ‘intercourse’, social or otherwise, going on between these two.

 

“Have a nice day with Thranduil,” giggled Bangwyn.  The elven king and the word ‘nice’ did not quite go together.

 

Both their partners were quite indignant at the insult offered to their new friendship.

 

The king and the prince galloped at breakneck speed until they reached the nearby forests.  They felt flushed and reckless: Brangwyn was always telling Young Thorin that he had to be careful ‘now that you’re a father’.  And the dwarven king reckoned that anything foolhardy was not appropriate to his dignity and majesty.

 

“That was fun!” they both gasped in unison.  And they laughed together.

 

Then, in the forest, they tracked a wild pig through bushes and briars.  It was small, fast and evasive and, in the end, it got away.  Their horses were sweating with the effort and, when they came across a stream, they stopped to let them drink.  They both drank from the stream too and threw themselves down upon the dappled grass.

 

“You’re a great companion!” exclaimed Young Thorin, turning his head towards the elf, his eyes dancing.

 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” smiled the king.  “Thorin likes to ride in a much more stately fashion these days.”

 

“I know what you mean,” came the understanding response.  “We’ll have to do this more often.  But, you must promise not to tell Brangwyn what we’ve been up to and I shan’t tell Thorin.”

 

They laughed conspiratorially together and felt very naughty.

 

Thanduil thought how wonderful it was to talk and laugh with someone so easily and, much more amazingly, not think about sex.  Whenever he was with the dwarven king, that was all he could ever think about half the time.  This was very relaxing and very comfortable.  A closeness was beginning to develop between them.

 

But sex did come into things in a companionable sort of way.  The prince suddenly asked him how things were with Thorin: “You know, ever since you upset him that time with those cruel remarks about Kili and Fili.  Things seem to have quietened down since then.”

 

The old, reserved, aloof Thranduil would have said politely that everything was fine, thank you very much.  But now the elf had a _friend_ and the urge to _share_.

 

“You don’t know the half of it,” he sighed.  “We’ve had so many rows that no-one else knows anything about, except, perhaps, Dwalin.  They’ve been so serious that we’ve nearly broken up a million times.”

 

Young Thorin looked shocked.  “But surely not just recently?”

 

Thranduil was enjoying this unburdening of himself and so he continued: “The last time was only a month ago and it was all over Haldir.”

 

The prince rolled towards him.  “Haldir!” he exclaimed.  “Not that snotty emissary from Galadriel?  But you two have hardly had anything to do with him.”

 

Thranduil hesitated.  Then: “I first met Haldir more than 60 years ago and we were lovers for two years.  Thorin found out about it not so long ago.”  He touched the scar on his cheek: “He objected.”

 

“He hit you?” gasped the dwarf.

 

“With his riding crop,” nodded the king.  In a strange way, he was enjoying this – witnessing the prince’s horror, being the object of his sympathy.

 

Young Thorin looked appalled.  “But surely he had no right to object.  Your affair with Haldir must have started long before your relationship with him?”

 

Thranduil cleared his throat, then took the plunge.  “Er, it was the nature of my interaction with Haldir that shocked and offended him.”  And he proceeded to tell the prince all about the shame of that relationship.  He even told him things that he hadn’t told Thorin about their sordid love life, things that would have upset Thorin even more but which now afforded the elf much needed relief as he unloaded himself and revealed the further unexpected development between Haldir and Thorin.

 

When he had finished, the dwarf reached out and touched his arm.  “You’ve been through a lot together,” he said quietly, “but I have no doubt that you’ll pull through in the end.”

 

It meant a lot to Thranduil that he showed no disgust nor any salacious interest.

 

“Come on,” said the prince, helping him to his feet.  “You’ve had enough, I reckon.  Let’s go home.”

 

A look of understanding passed between them, and they rode back to Erebor.

 

.o00o.

 

That night, in bed, Thorin was giving Thranduil a good fuck – but the elf wasn’t responding: he was too exhausted after unburdening himself to the prince.  The dwarven king came violently and then threw himself back on his pillow.  “What’s the matter?” he snapped.  “Anyone would think you had been fucking my heir all afternoon.”  He didn’t believe this but said it out of irritation – and curiosity.  “What on earth did you two get up to together?”

 

There was something about his lover’s tone that Thranduil found offensive.  “We just rode to the forest, chased a young pig – unsuccessfully – had a rest and then came home.”

 

It sounded innocent enough but Thorin snorted.  Thranduil rolled away from him and added tartly: “And, by the way, I’m looking after Durin all day tomorrow so that your heir and his wife can spend some time together: you can help me if you wish.”   Then he turned over and went to sleep.

 

.o00o.

 

Something similar was going on in the prince’s bedroom.  Brangwyn had come home late after visiting her father, feeling sad at his deterioration.  All she wanted was to make love gently or at least have a cuddle.  She found her husband lying on his back and staring at the ceiling.  He didn’t even bother to ask about her father but finally said as she climbed into bed with him: “Thranduil’s had a very hard time with Thorin, hasn’t he?”

 

Brangwyn, Thorin’s friend, snapped back in his support: “Or perhaps Thorin has had a very hard time with Thranduil.”

 

“I’m tired,” said the prince and rolled over and went to sleep, much to her annoyance.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt IV

 

_Friendship... is not something you learn in school. But if you haven't learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven't learned anything._

 

The next morning, Young Thorin remembered to ask his wife how her father was doing.

 

“Dying!” she said curtly and slid out of bed to get dressed.

 

The prince cleared his throat and tried to make all the right noises – he liked the old man, after all – but he just wasn’t very good at this sort of thing.  Perhaps his friendship with Thranduil would help him to improve.

 

Brangwyn was not impressed by his efforts and stomped about, getting Durin dressed.  Her husband tried to tell her about his day with the elven king but it just irritated her as he gabbled on about Thranduil this and Thranduil that.  Then he suddenly remembered their treat.

 

“Thranduil’s coming later this morning,” he told her brightly.  “He’s looking after Durin for the day so that we can go on a picnic together.  Wasn’t that nice of him?”

 

She was slightly mollified and her normal good humour began to return.

 

Thranduil, meanwhile, was also up and was getting dressed.  A grumpy Thorin was still lying in bed, studying his lover’s backside as he slipped on his shirt.  He didn’t want Thranduil to get up; he didn’t want him to sail off and look after Durin; he didn’t want to go with him.  He wanted him to stay in bed so that they could have a good time together.  What was all this with his young heir anyway?  There were servants to look after children if the parents wanted some time off.  He was very fond of Durin but he was also very fond of Thranduil’s backside – and his golden hair and his cock and his lithe arms and his heavy-hanging balls – oh, and all sorts of bits of him.  And he wanted those bits and he wanted them now!

 

“I need your key to the walled garden,” said the elven king, fumbling in Thorin’s desk drawers.  Thorin would rather that the elf were fumbling in _his_ drawers at this precise moment, he snarled to himself.  “I thought it would be nice if those two had a secluded picnic together.”  And before the dwarf could say yea or nay, he had whisked out the key and sailed from the room.

 

Thorin pulled the sheet over his head.  Well, if Thranduil thought he was going to spend his one day off this week baby-sitting, he had another think coming.

 

.o00o.

 

Thranduil picked up the little boy in his arms and hugged him.  “Are you going to give your second mother a kiss?” he cooed.  And the child kissed him on the nose.

 

She wasn’t quite sure why, but, today, this annoyed Brangwyn _.  She_ was Durin’s mother, not Thranduil, but the elf would insist on taking over sometimes.

 

The elf laughingly held out a key.  “Here you go,” he said.  “If you pop into the kitchens on your way out, you’ll find that a picnic basket has been put together for you.”  Brangwyn found it impossible to say thank you, especially when her husband took the king’s hand warmly.  Instead, she gave a curt nod and disappeared off.

 

“Oh-oh,” said Thranduil, “she looks as sour-faced as Thorin this morning.”  And the two of them gave each other sympathetic looks.  How nice it was to have an understanding friend.

 

After they had gone, the elven king played with Durin for a bit and then took him down to the kitchens to make little cakes for his parents’ tea.  It was immense fun but very messy and the harassed servants heaved a sigh of relief when they finally left, carrying their cake tin.

 

Back in the apartment, it was time for Durin’s nap.  It could last as long as two hours and it gave Thranduil time to tidy up and have a bit of a rest himself.  But, he had only just sat down, when there was a quiet knock and Thorin poked his nose around the door.  “Is he asleep?” he asked in a whisper.

 

“You’re a bit late to help,” grumbled the elf.

 

“Oh, I haven’t come to help,” said Thorin with a grin.  And he took the elf in his arms and pressed a knee hard into his groin.  Thranduil wriggled free.

 

“What on earth do you think you’re up to?” he hissed.  The dwarven king ignored him and, taking him in his arms again, began to massage his limp cock.

 

“Come on,” he panted.  “I’ve been waiting for this since yesterday.  Now’s as good a time as any.”

 

Thranduil pushed him away.  “There’s a child in the next room,” he said indignantly.

 

“A sleeping child,” said Thorin, making another grab for him.

 

“This is an inappropriate moment,” insisted the elf.  “And I’m sure that your heir always recognises what is and isn’t an inappropriate moment for a fuck.”

 

A thwarted Thorin began to lose his temper.  “Oh, yes!  I’m sure your golden boy knows exactly how to behave, whatever the occasion.  But, I don’t.  And I want to fuck you now.”

 

“Sshh!” whispered Thranduil, a finger to his lips.  “Control yourself!”

 

Well, who knows what would have happened if Brangwyn hadn’t swept into the room, her face set in grim lines?  “Thank you,” she said coldly and with no show of gratitude.  “You can go now.”

 

Both of them looked startled; Thranduil in particular wondered what had happened down in the walled garden and he hurried from the room.  But, Thorin hesitated.  Finally, he turned on the dwarf woman and said sharply: “Do you know what’s going on between those two?”  Brangwyn glared at him for a moment and then sat down and burst into tears.

 

“No, I don’t,” she sniffed.  “But their behaviour is very odd.  We were supposed to be having a lovely day together in the walled garden but I’ve just had a row with him.”

 

Thorin sat down next to her and put an arm about her.  “Thranduil’s behaviour has begun to upset me too.  He’s just not with me in the room when I speak to him,” he sighed.

 

“And my husband talks endlessly about Thranduil,” she sniffed.  “They seem obsessed with each other.”

 

“It could just be that they’re forming a friendship,” said Thorin tentatively.  “But….I’m worried it’s something more.  He seems to have gone off sex with me.”

 

“Yes, all I wanted was a bit of physical comfort yesterday but he turned over and went to sleep.”

 

“You don’t think that something has already started between them?”

 

“Yes – no – perhaps.”  Brangwyn blew her nose.  “Look, I’ll just get a servant to look after Durin, then we must go and find them and have it out with them.”

 

Good idea,” said Thorin.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt V

 

_A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out._

 

When Thranduil entered the walled garden in search of Young Thorin, he found him standing despondently amidst the detritus of the picnic.  The prince gave a sigh of relief when he saw the elven king.  “I need some help here,” he said wryly.

 

“What happened?” asked the elf, looking around at the mess.

 

“I’m not quite sure,” said the prince.  “I thought we were having a nice time together but she suddenly started throwing food for no apparent reason.  All I was doing was telling her about our great day out hunting together and how much I had enjoyed it and how I had plans to hang out with you again tomorrow.   She went berserk!”  He leant against the tree and his shoulders sagged.  “You know, I really don’t understand women.  In fact, I don’t really understand anyone.  I mixed with so few people when I was young – I had no friends, you know, and I think it shows.”

 

“That’s my problem too,” sighed Thranduil.  “When I was young, my father told me that I was going to be a king and that I had to keep myself aloof and apart from people.  I believed him and I thought it was beneath my dignity to get too close to anyone.  But, my life was very lonely – until I met Thorin.”

 

“Same here – until I met Brangwyn.  And now our relationship seems to be cracking up.”   He studied his feet for a moment, uncertain if he had the right to ask a favour of a new friend.  Then, finally, he said quietly: “I think I need a hug.”

 

Thranduil hesitated: he wasn’t quite sure if he knew how to give another male a non-sexual hug.  And then he stepped forward and put his arms around the young prince.  The dwarf laid his blond head on the elven king’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around the slender waist.  Strangely, Thranduil felt that he was getting as much from the gesture as he was giving and he stroked the young man’s hair in a comforting way: in return, he was comforted.

 

Well, dear readers: you can guess what happened next – because it always happens, doesn’t it?  Thorin and Brangwyn – of course - walked into the garden and caught them in this warm embrace.  Both yelled at their spouses at the same time and the pair leapt guiltily apart – although what the two of them had to feel guilty about neither of them were quite sure.

 

Brangwyn burst into tears for the second time that day – even though she wasn’t normally a weepy person – and ran from the garden.  Thorin put his hands on his hips and snarled:  “That really is it!  And with my heir this time too!  Unbelievable!”  And he also turned on his heel and made his exit.  Thranduil just rolled his eyes but Young Thorin, who wasn’t used to this sort of thing happening between him and Brangwyn, looked distraught.

 

“What shall I do?  What shall I do?” he cried desperately, grabbing his more experienced friend by the shoulder.

 

“Well, first of all,” said the elven king phlegmatically, “you take this.”  And he drew out a knife from his pocket.

 

“And kill myself?” asked a wild-eyed prince.

 

More eye-rolling from the elf.  “No!  You go over to that flower-bed and cut a great big bunch of the most beautiful blooms and then you tie them up prettily with this.”  And he whipped off a gold ribbon from one of Young Thorin’s braids.  The prince was hanging on every word.  “And then you go to your rooms – she’s probably crying on the bed – and fall to your knees and grovel and ask for forgiveness.”

 

“But I haven’t done anything,” complained the dwarf.

 

Thranduil sighed.  “It doesn’t matter what you’ve done or haven’t done: the grovelling and the flowers will do the trick.  And then, if the servants are still off somewhere with Durin, you make passionate love to her.  At some point, slip in a mention of our friendship. With any luck, she’ll accept it.”

 

The prince grabbed the knife and busied himself in the flower bed.  “And I’m off to have a row with Thorin,” added the elf.

 

“Aren’t you going to grovel too?” asked Young Thorin, pausing in surprise.

 

“Nope!  I’ve done enough of that these past few years.  Time for a good row instead.”  _Followed by a good fuck_ , he thought to himself.  “Lock the door when you leave.”

 

.o00o.

 

Thorin was waiting for him, of course.  He sat in a chair facing the door, his hands gripping the arm-rests.  He looked daggers at Thranduil as he entered the room.

 

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he spat.  “My heir, a married man, a father!  Not exactly the most appropriate person to get involved with!”  Then he waited for Thranduil to apologise.

 

But the elven king looked at him coldly and then walked to a table and poured himself a drink.  “How despicable you are, my love,” he sneered, turning back to face the dwarf, “when you are in this jealous mood.  The prince is a friend.”

 

“Since when?” scoffed Thorin.  “You’ve known him some time without forming any friendship with him – what on earth have you two got in common, anyway?  And then you disappear off into the woods with him one day and when the two of you get back, then everything’s changed.  You can’t stop talking about each other and neither of you has any interest in sex with your partner.  What happened, then?  What did the two of you do together, I wonder, to create such a sea change?”  He was spluttering angrily by the time he got to the end of this tirade but Thranduil continued to regard him scornfully.

 

“What did we do in the woods?  Why, of course,” he said coldly, “we found a romantic spot and then fucked each other silly all afternoon.”  He could almost feel sorry for Thorin when he saw him flinch.  “And when you two burst in on us in the walled garden, we were just about to indulge in yet another session.”

 

“Well,” shouted Thorin, “why else would you be embracing a handsome young prince in the seclusion of a walled garden if there wasn’t a sexual motive involved?”

 

“I suppose,” growled Thranduil angrily, leaning on Thorin’s arm-rests and thrusting his face close to Thorin’s own, “I could ask why you were embracing Brangwyn that time – and neither of you had any clothes on?  A friendly hug, was it?”

 

Thorin blushed a fiery red: he was caught out.  Yes, he had claimed it was a friendly hug(!) and Thranduil, just to bring that particular argument to an end, had eventually accepted his explanation.  But, the dwarf knew - and guessed that Thranduil knew too - that it had been a drunken – but failed – attempt at love-making when they had both been absolutely furious with their partners and were considering a divorce.

 

“Your selfishness,” continued Thranduil, “is appalling.  It’s all right for you to have friends but not me.  It’s all right for you always to be embracing Brangwyn and even kissing her on the lips in my full view but I can’t even give my new friend a man-hug after he’s just had a very upsetting row with his wife.”

 

They continued to glare at each other from close quarters, with both of them thinking how truly beautiful the other looked.  “The prince and I have become friends,” said Thranduil quietly at last.  “And what we have in common is our memories of just how lonely we have been all our lives without a single friend and how incredibly grateful we are to have such wonderful partners to help us fill that terrible void.  We have been happy and innocent in this new relationship that has suddenly developed between us – and now you are spoiling it with your filthy insinuations.”

 

Thorin gulped at the sadness in the elven king’s eyes and felt mean-spirited at his jealousy.  He leaned forward and kissed his lover gently on the lips.  “I am here for you now,” he said, “and….and I’m sure the prince will make a very good friend.” 

 

Thranduil smiled to himself.  Now for the pay-off.  “What I really need,” he said, with the tiniest break in his voice and the smallest tremble of his lip, “is a really good fuck to help me get over this.”

 

An hour later, a thoroughly fucked Thranduil lay on his back with the sleeping dwarf sprawled across his chest.  “Thorin’s quite easy to manage,” he thought smugly to himself, “once you know what buttons to push.”

 

.o00o.

 

**So, Thranduil thinks that he’s in control of things, does he?  I wonder for how long, LOL?  But, I hope that everyone’s pleased that he and the prince have found a friend in each other at last.  And thank you, aninnina, for suggesting some time ago that Thranduil should have a friend as good as Brangwyn.  I have hopes that this is the way this particular relationship will develop.**

**Thinking hard about another story.**

 

 

 

 

 

 


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